


Glad For What We've Got

by skintightsocks



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-14
Updated: 2011-05-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:24:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skintightsocks/pseuds/skintightsocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I would <i>really</i> like you to spend the night, Blaine," Kurt interrupts, heat creeping up into his face. "It's been a rough night for both of us. We deserve some John Hughes-ian comfort.  We can watch Pretty in Pink and get lost in Molly Ringwald's prom drama for a while instead of ours."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glad For What We've Got

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after episode 2x20. Title is from the song "Existentialism on Prom Night" by Straylight Run.

  
"What are you doing?" Kurt asks, raising an eyebrow as he walks into the kitchen after changing into his pajamas. Blaine's staring at a spoon, covered in gooped-up chocolate and dripping water on the counter.

"Making you hot chocolate?" Blaine asks, sounding confused as he looks helplessly at the spoon.

"Have you ever made hot chocolate before?" Kurt asks gently, taking the spoon out of his hand and rinsing it off in the sink.

"Not so much," Blaine says. "I maybe just poured it into cold water and started stirring. And _then_ I read the directions."

"It's the thought that counts, I guess," Kurt says, smiling at Blaine as he rinses the cup out.

"I wish I could make things better," Blaine says quietly, watching as the water swirls down the sink. "I mean, you know, in general. Not the hot chocolate."

"I know," Kurt says, covering Blaine's hand with his and squeezing gently.

"What the hell is this?" Burt says gruffly from the kitchen doorway, and Blaine jumps back so quickly that he almost lands on top of the island. "I thought I told you guys and Finn that you could stay out all night as long as there was no drinking and you checked in," he finishes, looking at Blaine weirdly. Kurt swallows a laugh and waves his hand nonchalantly.

"We just didn't feel like the after-party scene," Kurt says lightly. "The chances of some drunk troglodyte in formal wear puking on my boots was far too high."

"That why your eyes are all red and why Blaine is trying to hide a crown behind his back right now?" Burt asks, and Kurt winces. "What happened?" he asks quietly, looking at Kurt with that gentle, fiercely protective look on his face that Kurt wishes he didn't have to use. "Are you two okay?"

"We're fine, dad," Kurt sighs, slumping onto one of the stools at the counter. "Some jerks thought it would be funny to write me in as a prom queen candidate and I won, but I took the opportunity to finally find out if I could pull off a crown or not. If anything, it's only strengthened my resolve to marry a royal one day."

"My mom was Miss Ohio 1986," Blaine says helpfully. "Does that count?"

"Maybe if I marry your mom," Kurt says, smiling at him.

"Kurt," Burt says quietly, walking closer and dropping his hand to Kurt's shoulder. "You sure you're okay? If you need me to go down there on Monday and talk to that principal, I will. They never should have let that fly in the first place, for pete's sake, it's ridiculous that--"

"Dad," Kurt says, patting at his dad's forearm. "It's not a big deal. The people have spoken, and I'm choosing to look at this as the peons at that school finally recognizing my meticulous fashion sense and vast superiority to all of them."

"You sure?" Burt asks one more time.

"Positive," Kurt smiles up at him, only feeling a little sick at the lie.

"Alright then," Burt says, putting his arm around Kurt's shoulders and squeezing him into a quick hug before turning to head for the door. "If Blaine had permission to stay out all night, he can stay over, then. But he sleeps on the couch," Burt amends quickly, turning back around to raise his eyebrows at them. "Carole's working the late shift tonight and I'm waiting up for her, so I'll check." He points between them, giving both of them his best 'and that's final' look.

"The couch," Blaine repeats earnestly, nodding his head. "I will so be on that couch, Mr. Hummel."

"'Attaboy," Burt says, smiling at them before turning back around and heading up the stairs. Kurt stands back up, sighing as he reaches up to get the hot chocolate mix down from the cupboard, and Blaine touches his wrist where it's resting on the counter, his fingers warm.

"That's okay with you, right?" His voice is soft and full of concern and Kurt's chest aches a little when he looks over at Blaine.

"It's fine," Kurt says.

"Are you sure?" Blaine's eyes are big and earnest now, and Kurt turns his head away for a second when he gets the sudden urge to kiss Blaine. "It's been a rough night and I don't want to make things--"

"I would _really_ like you to spend the night, Blaine," Kurt interrupts, heat creeping up into his face. "It's been a rough night for both of us. We deserve some John Hughes-ian comfort. We can watch Pretty in Pink and get lost in Molly Ringwald's prom drama for a while instead of ours."

"Uh," Blaine says, fidgeting. "Maybe not _that_ particular movie?" Kurt's about to argue his point when he remembers some of the things people call the Blane in that movie.

"Oh," Kurt says. "Right. Maybe we could skip a decade and go for She's All That? No, then I'll just be sad there was no synchronized dancing at our prom," Kurt says, mostly to himself.

"Didn't you tell me that you TiVo'd the royal wedding?" Blaine asks, taking a step forward and brushing his hand at Kurt's elbow.

"Didn't you tell me you had no interest in watching that for a third time?" Kurt asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Eh," Blaine says, squeezing his elbow and stepping closer so he can kiss Kurt softly on the cheek. "Changed my mind."

-

Blaine had, in his infinite wisdom, sat on the sofa and squirmed uncomfortably in his tux for almost a whole hour of royal wedding coverage before he finally asked Kurt if he could borrow some clothes. Kurt felt kind of bad when he realized that he really should have thought of that sooner, but Blaine had let Kurt lay in his lap and he was petting at Kurt's hair and it was so _relaxing_. It wasn't really his fault. Besides, he's giving Blaine his most comfortable non-silk pair of pajama pants and the youth medium pink shirt with a frolicking, airbrushed unicorn on the front that Finn had misguidedly bought him for his last birthday. (Finn made it up to him by getting him a gift card to the hair salon Kurt loved, but that might have had something to do with Kurt refusing to talk to Finn for a whole week.)

"Um," Blaine says when he takes a look at the shirt, holding it up to his chest and raising his eyebrows at Kurt. "I never really pegged you for the... unicorn type," Blaine says slowly, looking down at himself, and Kurt covers his mouth as he starts to laugh.

"Oh god, Blaine, I'm sorry, I just had to do that. I mean, I was sort of hoping you'd put it on anyway--"

"Thanks, Kurt, thanks a lot," Blaine says dryly, tossing the shirt onto the bed and sliding off his tuxedo jacket. Kurt watches his arms for a second too long and turns away quickly as Blaine starts to loosen his tie, going over to his dresser to find a sleep-appropriate t-shirt that won't clash horribly with the pajama pants he's lending Blaine.

"Sometimes I feel bad for giving Finn a hard time over that since he probably thought he was being a good guy, but then I look at the unicorn in all its airbrushed glory again and instead think of how wonderful it will be to see his face when he gets the shirt back as a Christmas present," Kurt says happily, finally settling on an old Hummel Tires & Lube shirt. The logo has faded a little over the years but it's one of Kurt's favorite shirts for those rare moments when he doesn't care about looking his best for bed. He's smiling when he turns back around, but his smile disappears as his mouth drops open, heat rapidly rising into Kurt's face. "Oh, um."

"Did you find a shirt sans unicorn this time?" Blaine asks with a soft smile, folding his dress shirt up and setting it on top of his tuxedo jacket. He looks a little ridiculous, standing there in just his dress pants and socks, but then again, ridiculous really isn't the right word at all because he's _shirtless_ and he's in Kurt's room and now he's looking at Kurt like he's crazy because Kurt can't stop staring.

"Here you go," Kurt says quickly, and about two octaves higher than his normal speaking voice. "It's a little worn but the color will compliment the plaid pajama pants well. In case you were worried. About not matching. Do you want me to go so you can finish changing?" Kurt finishes, wondering if he can blame how flushed he is on his silk pajamas.

"No, you're fine," Blaine says, his eyebrows furrowed a little as he steps forward. Kurt's gaze drops back down - he can't _not_ \- and Blaine's shoulders are broad and his torso is lean and dusted lightly with hair and his hipbones stick out sharply and Kurt is going to be thinking about this in the shower for _weeks_. He looks back up and tries to ignore Blaine's stupidly knowing smirk as he hands Blaine the shirt.

"'Hummel Tires & Lube,'" Blaine reads, still smiling. "I'll wear this with pride, Kurt."

"You do that," Kurt says weakly, but as Blaine starts to pull the shirt over his head (Kurt's not looking below Blaine's shoulders, he's not, he's _not_ ), Kurt notices the gelled-down helmet that is Blaine's hair and winces. Things go from bad to worse when Blaine tries to toe off his socks and ends up almost falling over, getting twisted up in the shirt and yanking it over his head until random clumps of gelled hair are sticking up at odd angles all over his head.

"Hah!" Blaine says victoriously as he manages to get the shirt pulled down. Kurt's doing a surprisingly good job of not laughing at Blaine, but the urge to laugh dries up altogether when Blaine reaches for his fly and shamelessly pulls his pants down over his hips. He's wearing black boxer briefs, and he doesn't seem to care that Kurt can see (he must not care about Kurt at _all_ if the way Kurt's heart speeds up at the sight of Blaine in his underwear is any indication) as he grabs the pajama pants and steps into them, hopping a little as he pulls them over his hips. He sits back on the bed so he can lean over and roll the bottoms of the pants up where they're too long, and Kurt is stuck between cooing at him and rolling his eyes when more of Blaine's gelled-up hair falls down over his face in stiff little clumps.

"We're going to wash your hair now," Kurt says automatically.

Blaine looks up, trying to tuck the little escaped pieces of hair back into place without much success. "We are?"

"We are," Kurt says firmly. He holds out his hand and feels that familiar warmth in his chest when Blaine takes it, letting Kurt tug him to his feet and pull him into the bathroom.

"It's not that bad," Blaine says, poking idly at his hair in the mirror. "I can just comb it back down and it will bond back into the gel."

"Please don't tell me your hair gel has become sentient," Kurt says, only partly joking. Blaine uses a _lot_ of gel, and some of it has to have inevitably seeped into his pores and leaked into his brain.

"I'm not justifying that with a response," Blaine says. Kurt's shared his brain-infecting gel theory more than once.

"Get over here," Kurt says, grinning at him and standing over by the tub.

"Hold on, I don't want to get your shirt wet," Blaine says, stepping back and pulling the t-shirt up over his head, leaving him shirtless in Kurt's bathroom, which really is no better than shirtless in Kurt's bedroom. Blaine rests the shirt on the towel rack and then stretches, leaning back and throwing his arms out as he yawns, muscles flexing under skin in places Kurt suddenly wants to put his mouth on.

"You are absolutely doing that on purpose now," Kurt hisses, grabbing a towel from the rack and contemplating using his special shampoo that would be better suited to Blaine's hair before selfishly deciding he'd rather Blaine smelled like _his_ shampoo.

"Doing what on purpose, silly?"

"Oh, don't you play innocent with me, Blaine Warbler," Kurt says, kneeling down next to the tub so he can roll up his sleeves and turn on the water, waiting for it to warm up. "How do you want to do this? Is leaning back against the tub okay for you?"

"That works for me," Blaine says, sitting on the floor with his back up against the side of the tub, his legs stretched out in front of him. The way he's sitting leaves Kurt with pretty much no option but to lean over him to adjust the water temperature and grab the shower head. He very specifically does not think about the fact that Blaine's right in front of him, eye-level with his thighs, and he steps back as quickly as he can after he turns the shower head on.

Blaine's staring up at him with that look he gets sometimes when it's just them, soft and fond and a little dark in ways that Kurt tries not to think about too much. At least not outside of the shower. Oh god, he's washing Blaine's hair. Blaine is _shirtless in his bathroom_. Kurt has the feeling that adding a visual to his shower time is just going to make things a lot more interesting.

"I'm just going to--" Kurt starts, staring down at Blaine and meeting his gaze for a second before looking away. "Right. This doesn't have to be awkward at all," he mumbles, mostly to himself.

"You don't have to be nervous around me, Kurt," Blaine says with a grin, his hands moving to cup Kurt's hips as Kurt kneels down over Blaine, straddling his lap so his knees are on either side of Blaine's legs.

"Who said anyone's nervous?" Kurt says lightly, but his stomach has gone tight and his cheeks are warm which means he's probably blushing. "Sit up for a second, please."

Blaine leans up, his hands sliding to the small of Kurt's back as Kurt wraps the towel around Blaine's broad shoulders, leaning back when he's done. Blaine leans forward with him, kissing softly at Kurt's collarbone, and Kurt can't decide if he should be patting himself on the back or kicking himself for leaving the first two buttons of his pajama top open.

"Okay, we're washing your hair now," Kurt breathes out, and Blaine laughs softly, leaning back against the tub. Kurt checks the temperature of the water against his hand one more time and then cups the back of Blaine's head with one hand, letting the water run over the crown of Blaine's head. It feels weirdly intimate, leaning so close over Blaine like this. "Okay?" he asks. "Too hot?"

"Mmm," Blaine hums. "Perfect."

"Can you even feel the water?" Kurt asks, trying to work his fingers into Blaine's stiff, gel-covered hair. "Are you sure this isn't glue?"

"Just means you have to rub harder and I get more of a scalp massage," Blaine says, shrugging a little. He's smirking, but he's also got his head tipped back and his eyes are closed and his long eyelashes are fanned across his cheeks and-- okay, no, Kurt's got to focus. Right. He puts his hand on Blaine's forehead, shielding Blaine's eyes from any errant water as he gets Blaine's hairline wet. Kurt's shower head is, simply put, amazing. It's got seven settings and an adjustable spray, and Kurt knows the water pressure is amazing, but it's really no excuse for the obscene, breathy noises Blaine makes as Kurt runs the spray over his scalp, his fingers scratching and working through Blaine's hair until most of the gel is washed out.

"Enjoying yourself?" Kurt asks, resting the shower head in the tub as he reaches for the shampoo.

"God, yes," Blaine says lazily. Kurt smiles, thumbing a drop of water away from Blaine's temple and then letting his hand trail down Blaine's neck because it's there and it seems a shame not to. He lets his hand keep moving down, because he hasn't really had the opportunity or a valid excuse before now to just _touch_ like this. Kurt never thought he'd be into chest hair, but he's kind of fascinated with the dark hair on Blaine's chest and the way it feels against his fingers. He can't help imagining what it would feel like pressed against his own chest, rough against his smoother skin, and Kurt can feel his face heating up again at the thought. He keeps sliding his hand down, fingers skimming across Blaine's nipples and making Blaine suck in a sharp breath. Kurt files that away for later and keeps moving his fingers, stopping when he gets to Blaine's stomach.

"Hey," Kurt says, thumbing over a jagged scar right under Blaine's ribs. "What's this?"

"Got it fighting a bear," Blaine says, his eyes still closed.

"Somehow I don't believe you," Kurt says, but he lets it drop, squirting shampoo into his hands and starting to work it into Blaine's hair. Blaine's quiet for a while, aside from the occasional happy noise, and Kurt's rubbing his thumbs behind Blaine's ears, just to watch the way he presses his head back into Kurt's hands, when Blaine starts to talk.

"After that Sadie Hawkin's dance," Blaine says quietly, "they just kind of came out of nowhere. There was a guy kicking me in the ribs, and he had on steel-toed boots so I didn't stand a chance. I rolled away, but unfortunately I rolled away into broken glass, and, well. Scar," Blaine says, shrugging his shoulders like it's not a big deal.

Kurt doesn't quite know what to say, so he leans down and kisses Blaine's forehead softly, his hands working the lather of the shampoo through Blaine's hair, gently rubbing at his scalp. Kurt knows he's lucky, considering. He's heard the horror stories, knows he could have it so much worse, but still. Knowing that happened to Blaine just for _being who he is_ makes Kurt's heart ache, his eyes watering up a little against his will.

"Kurt?" Blaine asks, sounding nervous.

"That asshole should be arrested for wearing steel-toed boots outside of a construction site, much less what he did to you," Kurt says. He means it as a joke but it comes out quiet and fierce, and Blaine turns his head and kisses at Kurt's wrist.

"I'm sorry," Blaine says, squeezing at Kurt's waist. "About tonight. I didn't want it to be like that for you. I wanted it to be perfect."

"Are you kidding?" Kurt says, reaching for the shower head and starting to rinse the shampoo out of Blaine's hair, blinking quickly until he's sure he won't start crying. "I got an awesome and not at all tacky and cheaply made crown, for one, and I also got to dance with my hot boyfriend while everyone in that gym admired how fabulous we are."

"How did this turn into you trying to make _me_ feel better?" Blaine asks, smiling up at him as Kurt tugs at Blaine's hair so he'll bend his head back enough that Kurt can wash the shampoo at his hairline out. "I had grand plans for cheering you up tonight."

"Does 'grand' mean 'sexy' in this case?" Kurt asks, cocking his eyebrow at Blaine. Blaine laughs, pouting his lips up ridiculously until Kurt leans down and kisses him. Blaine pulls away after a second, straightening his neck up and groaning. "Poor baby," Kurt says, putting the shower head down and running his hands through Blaine's wet curls, making sure the shampoo's out. "Take a break before we do the conditioner."

"I don't need con--"

"Uh-uh!" Kurt says, holding a finger up. "Yes. Yes you do. If you're good and don't complain, I'll give you a neck rub when we're finished, too."

"Fine," Blaine says. "But only because it means I get another scalp massage too."

"I think I'm going to choose to be flattered instead of feeling like you're using me," Kurt says airily, and Blaine laughs again, grabbing at Kurt's hips so he can tug Kurt closer over his lap while Kurt tries to dry off his hands on the towel draped over Blaine's shoulders.

"I would never use you," Blaine says quietly against Kurt's lips, his eyes flickering up to meet Kurt's before sliding shut as they kiss, his long lashes brushing against Kurt's cheeks when Kurt tilts his head. Kurt presses forward to get at a better angle, kissing back deeply and whining a little into Blaine's mouth when his hands start to slide up underneath Kurt's shirt. His fingers are warm where they're pressing into Kurt's skin and Kurt pulls back, drawing in a deep, shuddery breath and staring into Blaine's dark eyes. Kurt really has a difficult time remembering how easy it is to start kissing Blaine and never, ever want to stop.

"Unless you _want_ me to use you?" Blaine whispers, probably going for sexy but mostly sounding confused, and Kurt tilts his head onto Blaine's shoulder, groaning.

"Hush, Blaine," Kurt says firmly. He reaches up with one hand to cup Blaine's face, taking a moment to enjoy how _real_ this is, that they can do this, that Blaine is _his_. It hasn't stopped being this weird mixture of surreal and incredibly satisfying, and Kurt presses a little closer and sucks at Blaine's bottom lip, scraping his teeth over it the way that Blaine likes.

"Fuck," Blaine gasps into his mouth, his fingers tightening on Kurt's hips as he pulls him closer. "You have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you at prom," Blaine groans when Kurt pulls back and kisses at his jaw.

"Oh yes I do," Kurt says, nipping at the bottom of Blaine's jaw. "You should have seen yourself on that stage." Blaine laughs breathlessly, and Kurt grins against his skin. Blaine is so easy, sometimes. Kurt's considering seeing just how crazy he can drive Blaine by stroking _only_ his ego when Blaine pulls back to look at Kurt, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Hey, wait," he says. "Do you think your dad's going to suspect anything if we're up here too long?"

" _Why_ ," Kurt says tightly, "on _earth_ are you thinking about my father while we're making out?"

"I... wasn't," Blaine says. "I just really don't want him to kick me out and ban me from the house. He told me he'd do that once."

"That was a _joke_ , Blaine," Kurt laughs, rolling his eyes. "I guess we can get back to the task at hand, though, since the mood is officially ruined," he mumbles. He reaches for the knobs automatically before he realizes the water is still on, the shower head still spraying in the bottom of the tub, and Kurt groans. "Look what you did," he tells Blaine.

"I didn't do anything," Blaine says automatically. "What did I do?"

"You distracted me and I left the water running," Kurt says, grabbing the shower head. "You're killing the earth, Blaine, I hope you're happy."

Blaine pouts up at him, something he's getting far too good at, and Kurt sighs, turning the hot water up a little. "If the hot water runs out halfway through the conditioner, it's your own fault," Kurt warns him before threading his hand into Blaine's wet hair and tugging gently until Blaine tilts his head back over the tub. Kurt could _definitely_ get used to seeing Blaine like this, his long neck stretched out and eyes closed and lips parted every time Kurt tugs at his hair.

"I can deal with that," Blaine says as Kurt starts to run the water back through Blaine's hair. "The scalp massage makes up for it."

"You know," Kurt says, putting the shower head back down and squeezing some conditioner into the palm of his hand before working it through Blaine's hair, "if you used less product, I could give you scalp massages _much_ more often." Blaine makes a considering noise as Kurt rubs the pads of his fingers against Blaine's scalp, letting his nails scratch softly. "Not to mention I could pet your hair," Kurt continues. "Scratch at the hair at the back of your neck the way you like. So many possibilities, Blaine."

"That is a point I had not considered," Blaine says, pressing his head up against Kurt's hands.

"Mmm," Kurt hums, leaning down over Blaine and skimming his lips over the shell of Blaine's ear. "You should think about it," he whispers into Blaine's ear before pulling back, grinning a little when Blaine's lips part and he strains up a little. "Time to wash!" Kurt says brightly, ignoring the glare Blaine gives him as he grabs the shower head and starts to rinse the conditioner out.

"You are so mean to me," Blaine sighs, unable to bite back his grin. Kurt smiles down at him and ducks down to press a quick kiss to Blaine's lips before he finishes working the conditioner out of Blaine's hair. He turns the water off and squeezes the excess water out of Blaine's hair before grabbing the towel from around Blaine's shoulders and patting his hair with it.

"Up," Kurt says, bracing his hands on the edge of the tub and pushing himself off of Blaine's lap. His knees are kind of numb and locked in place, and he stretches a little before holding his hand out for Blaine and helping him stand up.

"Hi," Blaine says when he stumbles into Kurt's chest.

"Hi," Kurt says, grinning and reaching up to squeeze the towel around Blaine's hair. Blaine steps closer and drops his head to Kurt's shoulder, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist, and Kurt can't help but wish he wasn't in his pajama top so he could feel Blaine's chest against his. He settles for letting one of his hands let go of the towel and skim down Blaine's spine, resting at the small of his back. Blaine shivers a little, pressing closer, and Kurt's not sure if it's because of him or because Blaine's shirtless and damp, but either way he likes the feeling, likes Blaine shivering against him.

Kurt keeps petting at Blaine's back, stroking up and down before dropping the towel and threading his other hand into Blaine's damp curls. He tugs just enough to get Blaine's head at the right angle so that he can kiss him, and Blaine groans, walking them back against the wall and pressing himself close to Kurt. Blaine keeps trying to get closer and closer, and Kurt bites down a groan because he knows what Blaine wants, knows how Blaine likes it, and he presses his hand firmly to the small of Blaine's back and spins them, pressing Blaine back so that he's trapped between Kurt's body and the wall.

"Kurt," Blaine gasps out, the sound low and raw, and Kurt skims his hands around Blaine's sides and up his stomach, taking advantage of getting to _touch_ like this. His thumb brushes over the raised skin of Blaine's scar and Kurt pauses, tracing it with the pad of his thumb, the feel of it so different in contrast to Blaine's soft skin. Blaine shivers again, and Kurt's struck with a sudden, almost raw feeling of possessiveness that's equal parts exciting and scary. He steps back just enough to give himself room to bend down and press his lips to the scar, trailing soft, wet kisses along the jagged length of it. Blaine goes still, suddenly tense and quiet, and Kurt jerks back up, his eyes wide, worried he's gone too far and crossed some line he didn't mean to.

"Blaine, are you--" Blaine doesn't let him finish, just pulls Kurt forward roughly and kisses him, deep and desperate, sucking at his lip and digging his fingers into Kurt's shoulders, his hips starting to rock against Kurt's thigh. Blaine lets out a low, whimpering noise, and then the possessiveness is back in a hot rush and Kurt pulls back, putting his hands on Blaine's hips to still them. "Never again," he says quietly, not entirely sure that saying it out loud is the best idea but desperate to make sure Blaine _knows_. "It's you and me now, okay? No one gets to hurt you again."

Blaine nods, says, "Yeah, Kurt, of course," in a rough voice. His eyes are big and dark and Kurt's pressing forward, leaning back in and pressing his thigh against the hard, thrilling feel of Blaine's erection through his pants. Blaine gasps a little, his hips jerking forward, rubbing himself against Kurt's thigh while Kurt kisses at Blaine's neck, his bare shoulders, everywhere his mouth can reach because Blaine tastes good and he keeps making these _noises_. Kurt about to press his mouth over Blaine's nipple when Blaine moves his own leg forward, pressing his thigh between Kurt's legs, and oh, _oh_. It's almost better than making out and pressing together when they're fully clothed in bed, because now everything is hot and urgent and close and so _good_. Kurt gasps, grabbing tightly at Blaine's hips as they move together, when all of a sudden Kurt hears his dad's footsteps in the hall, and he scrambles back so quickly that Blaine almost falls down against the wall without Kurt supporting his weight.

"Sorry," he hisses at Blaine, hurriedly grabbing Blaine's borrowed shirt and tossing it at his face, then slipping on the robe hanging up nearby so his hard-on isn't quite as obvious. Once he's satisfied that Blaine's putting the shirt on, he turns to fuss with his shampoo and conditioner, pretending he's straightening up and wasn't just about to try putting his hand down his boyfriend's pants.

"There a reason you two are in the bathroom together?" Burt asks, stepping into the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Blaine took a shower, and he can't be trusted to put things back where they belong. I was just cleaning up," Kurt says, smiling brightly at his dad and biting back a laugh when he sees Blaine standing awkwardly against the wall with the towel clutched in front of him, hiding his hard-on.

"Alright," Burt says after taking a long, assessing look around. "And you know the rules, Kurt. Blaine sleeps on the couch and this door stays open if you two are gonna be in here."

"I know, dad," Kurt says, straightening his bottle of deep-conditioner. "We're just about to head back downstairs and finish watching the royal wedding."

"Okay then," Burt says, stepping forward and ruffling Kurt's hair. "You gotten to that part with the funny bow hat yet?"

"Not yet," Kurt says, smiling at him and letting Burt hug him to his side. His dad isn't usually this affectionate but Kurt's had an exhausting night and his dad has always been able to pick up on when Kurt could use a hug, so he's not complaining.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting out of your hair," Burt says, smiling at Blaine. "Just remember, I'll be up, and I'll be checking."

"We know, dad," Kurt says quickly when Burt turns to look at Blaine. Blaine is not good under pressure. He'll crack if Burt so much as raises an eyebrow at him, Kurt knows.

"I promise, Mr. Hummel," Blaine says nervously. "I will be on the sofa. I will not move from the sofa." Case in point.

"It's not jail, kid," Burt says, giving him the weird, fond look that he's been using a lot lately around Blaine. It makes Kurt inexplicably happy. "You can move from the sofa, you just can't move on or around my son."

" _Dad_ ," Kurt says, horrified.

"Fine, fine, I'm going, but one last thing, Blaine," Burt says, voice suddenly low and serious.

"Yes?" Blaine says weakly.

"Nice shirt."

"Thank you, sir," Blaine says, his eyes wide and somewhat terrified.

Kurt scowls at Burt and pushes at his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah," he laughs as he heads for the door. "I'm leaving."

-

"He has way too much fun now that he's finally able to embarrass me about having a boyfriend," Kurt huffs a few minutes later in his room, still a little vexed about his dad interrupting the good thing he and Blaine had going. The good thing that would've probably ended in orgasms for both of them, and it's not like Kurt had _planned_ on living out the cliche of fooling around on prom night, but he wouldn't have minded getting to touch Blaine and hear the noises he made when he got close and watch him _come_ , either. Okay, maybe he was more than a little vexed.

"What do you have to be embarrassed about?" Blaine asks, bent over to look at himself in Kurt's mirror, patting at his hair in vain where it's starting to curl up and trying to shape the curls with his fingers.

"You," Kurt says automatically, but it comes out a lot more fond than teasing.

"Gee, thanks," Blaine says, making a face at Kurt in the mirror as he fusses with his hair. "Besides, your dad totally likes me, I can tell."

"Really?" Kurt asks, picking Blaine's tuxedo jacket up from the floor and shaking it out with a frown as he unpins his boutonniere. "Because you were _so_ smooth back there in the bathroom."

"Talking to him when all I can think about is getting you off is different from talking to him normally, okay," Blaine says, sighing and giving up on his hair. "I'm totally charming, usually. Your dad likes me. We're bros."

"Do not call my dad your bro," Kurt says, hoping Blaine can't tell from his voice exactly how much the thought of Blaine trying to get him off had gotten to him. He clears his throat nervously, folding Blaine's tuxedo jacket over the back of his chair and placing Blaine's boutonniere carefully beside his own on the dresser.

"Why'd you pick carnations anyway?" Blaine asks, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist. "I figured you for more of an orchid guy. Or at least a rose."

"No reason," Kurt says, flushing a little. "Let's head back downstairs."

"Kurt," Blaine says, rubbing his cheek against Kurt's shoulder. "Tell me."

"I figured there was no reason to be ostentatious?" Kurt tries.

"So this has nothing to do with the entire tub of silica gel on your dresser?" Blaine asks.

"If you're insinuating what I think you're insinuating, then you've made the obvious connection and can't make fun of me because you're just as bad," Kurt says, stiffening.

"My mom's an amateur florist," Blaine says, wiggling his way between Kurt and the dresser when Kurt refuses to turn around in his arms. "I'll help you dry them in the microwave tomorrow," Blaine says, smiling up at him, and Kurt rolls his eyes because it might be cheesy, sure, but this is something Kurt never thought he'd have. He'd done his research, and carnations keep their color if you dry them in the microwave with silica gel, and he kind of wants to keep the good memories around, especially since prom itself didn't exactly turn out idyllic.

"I think it's sweet," Blaine says quietly, stretching up to kiss Kurt's nose. "Stop over-thinking things and let's go make fun of some ridiculous hats, okay?"

"What's sweet is how you think I'm making fun of the hats and not taking notes," Kurt says, turning toward the door and reaching back for Blaine's hand. Blaine's hand slides into his, and Kurt only lets himself smile a little bit at how he's getting used to that feeling.

-

"Hey," Blaine mumbles sleepily. The TV's been off for almost an hour and Blaine keeps falling asleep and then waking up, but Kurt can't quite force himself to move from the sofa. They're cuddled up together under a blanket, and Kurt is warm and sleepy and Blaine's hair smells like his shampoo where it tickles Kurt's nose. Kurt thought Blaine was asleep again, but he just cuddles closer for a second before lifting up on his elbow so he can meet Kurt's eyes. "I'm sorry about tonight. About what happened. I'm sorry I couldn't... I don't know. Do something."

"It's okay," Kurt says, brushing Blaine's curls off his forehead. "It happens. I went back to McKinley knowing things wouldn't magically be better. I just didn't see this one coming. I guess I should have - I mean, Carrie is a classic for a reason. At least it wasn't pig's blood. If they'd ruined my kilt I really _might_ have developed telepathic powers out of rage."

"It shouldn't happen, though," Blaine says sadly. "I just wish... Dalton's easy, you know? I ran away to Dalton _because_ it was easy, because I couldn't stand up and face the same kind of assholes that you deal with on a daily basis."

"Blaine, it's a different situation," Kurt says softly. "You got _hurt_. I don't think any less of you for making sure you're safe, you know that. I ran away to Dalton too, remember?"

"You got hurt too," Blaine says. "Don't tell me being tossed in dumpsters and pushed into lockers didn't hurt. And you were safe at Dalton, but you weren't _happy_ , and you were brave enough to leave so you could be. I just wish-- I don't know." Blaine's voice is quiet now, still sad. "I wish I could be brave like you."

"Hey," Kurt says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Don't act like you're not brave, Blaine, we both know that's a lie. Do I have to remind you about that horrible episode in the GAP?"

"That's not the same kind of courage," Blaine mumbles.

"No, but you stuck by me tonight when everything went wrong, and I know how hard it was for you, even if you pretend it wasn't. Besides, think of it this way," he adds, hoping to lighten the mood before he does something stupid like start crying in front of Blaine for the second time that night. "We're a team now. With my bravery, good looks, rapier wit, and stunning fashion sense there's nothing we can't do!"

"And what exactly do I contribute to this duo?" Blaine asks, smiling softly at him, his eyes big and a little wet.

"Well, you're a very good kisser," Kurt says with a grin, leaning forward to kiss Blaine, soft and sweet.

"I can live with that," Blaine mumbles, settling back in against Kurt's side and kissing the side of his neck idly. "I wish you didn't have to go upstairs," he whispers against Kurt's skin, his warm breath making Kurt shiver.

"I've been thinking about that," Kurt says, reaching for the blanket and pulling it up over Blaine's shoulders. "Dad just said that you had to sleep on the couch, right? He didn't say anything about where _I_ had to sleep."

Kurt's a little proud of himself for finding the loophole, but Blaine doesn't respond and Kurt's beginning to wonder if he fell asleep again when Blaine finally whispers, "But he said he'd check. Do you think he'd kill me in my sleep if you were still down here?"

"No, Blaine," Kurt smiles, kissing the top of his head. "Besides, he doesn't actually have a shotgun. Finn was joking."

"Oh," Blaine says, letting out a deep breath against Kurt's neck. "Okay. As long as you promise you'll take the blame and say you fell asleep down here."

"I promise," Kurt says, rolling his eyes and pulling Blaine closer. "He's far less likely to go next door and borrow the neighbor's shotgun to shoot his own son."

"You're kidding, right?" Blaine says, nervously. "That's a joke, right, Kurt?"

-

Kurt's not sure what time it is when he blinks himself awake, but it's still dark outside and there's weak light coming from the kitchen. It takes him a second to realize what woke him up, but then he hears his dad, talking quietly with Carole.

"I just wish I could do something," Burt says, his voice upset in a way Kurt hasn't heard in years. "He shouldn't have to go through that shit, Carole. Not every day and much less on his damn prom night."

"I know," Carole says softly, her voice suddenly closer. Kurt closes his eyes quickly and pretends to be asleep as he feels a soft hand brush his hair back from his forehead. "But you know how strong he is. He shouldn't have to be, but he is. Just like his dad," she says, and Kurt wants to roll his eyes when Burt laughs happily. "Now come on," Carole says. "It's 4 A.M. and I'm tired."

"What am I supposed to do about this?" Burt asks after a second. "I told Blaine he had to sleep on the couch, and I'll bet you anything this was Kurt's smartass way of getting around that."

"You're going to leave them alone because they're good kids and Kurt had a rough night," Carole says as he hears their footsteps heading for the stairs. Kurt really does love Carole.

"Next time I'm covering every scenario I can think of," Burt grumbles, and Kurt smiles to himself as he cuddles closer to Blaine.

-

The sun's up the next time Kurt wakes up, and this time he knows _exactly_ what woke him up.

"Oww," Finn mumbles from the floor.

"Kurt?" Blaine asks sleepily, burrowing closer to Kurt's chest to hide his eyes from the sun that's peeking through the blinds.

"It's just Finn," Kurt sighs, and he's about to go back to sleep when he peers over the arm of the couch and gets an actual _look_ at Finn. "Finn, what on _earth_?" Kurt groans, untangling his legs from Blaine's and patting him on the shoulder when he whines and clings to Kurt's shoulders. "Sorry, honey, but I think Finn was attacked by wild dogs or something."

"No," Finn croaks from the floor. "It was Jesse. Jesse St. Asshole. He did this."

"He seemed nice," Blaine mumbles from the couch where he's wrapped himself around Kurt's pillow. Kurt rolls his eyes and heads over to Finn, nudging him in the ribs with his toe.

"Turn over," he says.

"I can't," Finn whines miserably. "I'll die."

"Oh for goodness sake," Kurt sighs, reaching down and shoving at Finn's side until he's flipped over. Finn's tux is ripped and he has a black eye and he's wearing a crushed lei around his neck. "What on earth did you _do_?" Kurt asks.

"I don't _know_ ," Finn groans, holding his hands over his eyes. "Everything hurts. We got thrown out of prom and Jesse wanted to keep fighting so we drove to a hotel, and--"

"Wait," Kurt says with a frown. "Wait, you followed Jesse St. James to a _hotel_ to fight?"

"He said that's where he does his best battling," Finn explains. "But I guess he meant dance battling, because he made me get up on a stage but there was some party going on and so those dancing ladies with the flower necklaces were already there, and he said we had to dance battle, and then I don't remember much. Except that there was also tequila and maybe a donkey?" Finn mumbles.

"I don't think there was a donkey in a hotel ballroom, Finn. Did you give yourself a black eye during the dance battle?" Kurt asks. He's starting to wish he had gotten some coffee before Finn started talking.

"I think it was the donkey. Or maybe one of the dancing ladies," Finn says, rolling to his side and curling up in a ball. "Kurt, I think I'm dying." Kurt would be worried, but Finn starts to snore almost immediately so Kurt just throws the blanket from the back of the love-seat over him and crawls back onto the couch with Blaine.

"Shouldn't we try to help him to bed?" Blaine asks sleepily as he relinquishes the pillow and cuddles back up to Kurt's chest. "Or at least, like, the love-seat?"

"No," Kurt says, pulling the blanket back over them. "He's like ten feet tall and I'm still tired. Besides," he yawns against Blaine's hair, "when Dad and Carole come down and find Finn passed out drunk on the floor, I'm pretty sure our sofa sleepover is going to look like _nothing_."

"That's awesome," Blaine says into Kurt's shirt. "Finn's _awesome_."

"Uh huh," Kurt mumbles. Blaine kisses Kurt's chest through his pajamas and reaches for Kurt's hand around his waist, linking their fingers together and squeezing a little, and Kurt smiles and squeezes back, nuzzling his nose into the soft curls at the crown of Blaine's head. Blaine's close and warm and he smells like Kurt's shampoo and clothes, and they've got at least three hours before his dad and Carole wake up to stay just like this, curled up on the sofa together as the sun leaks in through the blinds. Prom might not have been perfect, Kurt thinks as he starts to drift off, but prom night, at least, made up for it.

  



End file.
